A Tale of Winter
by ashlieeexoxo
Summary: Hermione Granger leaves her entire life behind to try and stop the dark lord. What she finds is a life more dangerous than she could have ever imagined. AU after HBP, OOC. Rated M for violence, language, and sex.


When people are sad, they always say the rainstorm outside reflects the misery inside themselves, the raindrops their tears. But if the weather were to accurately portray the emotions inside Harry Potter, he would need to be in the middle of a maelstrom on the Atlantic.

He pulled on his too-tight tie, loosening it completely before he realized the choking sensation he felt wasn't caused by anything corporeal, and he sniffed as he fought the tight lump in his throat. He looked away from the black-clad speaker, and turned to the girl sitting next to him, once so vibrant and full of life, now seemingly dulled by her pain.

Ginny turned to look up at him, and squeezed his hand before scooting closer. Harry put his arm around her, and pulled her in to his arms. No matter what, he was glad he had someone to comfort him. Funerals are always harder when you are alone.

The woman on the stage stumbled through her speech, trying to stem the tears that had fallen for days. For once, Minerva McGonagall was proud that she could memorize long passages, for she didn't think she would be able to read a grocery list, let alone a eulogy today.

"The only solace we may take in her death is that she died a hero, saving those she loved from harm, and ensuring that they would live to see a new day". McGonagall looked out at the sea of black in front of her. The cloaks seemed to blend into each other, until the mourners seemed to be nothing but a dark cloud. She shook her head, and turned to exit the stage, glad that her best friend was sitting there waiting for her. She couldn't have composed herself enough to deliver the eulogy if she hadn't had the support.

It was later, when the chairs were put away, and darkness fell, that a lone figure approached the grave. His cloak and robes were soaked through, but he couldn't feel the cold water on his skin. He looked at the small headstone and sank to his knees. He traced the cursive words on the front of the stone:

Here lies Hermione Jean Granger

b. 19 September, 1979 d. 4 June, 1999

"Good women must die, but death can not kill their names"

"I miss you so much" he whispered, and then Ron Weasley cried, because he was so alone.

* * *

Miles away, in a small wooden cabin, a girl stood in front of a mirror with a pair of shears in her hand. She reached up, and grabbed a section of her brown curls, and cut it to her shoulders. Slowly, systematically, she worked her way around her head until she had a circle of hair at her feet. Satisfied with her cut, she reached for the box of hair dye and her wand. A few modifications would make this color a bit more permanent, rendering the need for touchups obsolete.

While the foul smelling goop sat in her hair, she opened up a muggle book of plastic surgery, and a wizarding book on beauty charms. She trusted her own research, and knew that there would be no turning back after this.

She started with her nose. She had read somewhere, that by changing your nose you could alter your entire appearance. The first snap as the bone broke caused her to cry out in pain, and she wished that she could have taken a pain potion before getting started, but knew that muddling her mind during such a delicate procedure could permanently disfigure her. Looking into the small mirror, she reshaped the bone in her nose, shaving the sides to make it thinner, and adding a bit at the tip to cause it to turn up just a bit.

She winced when she tried to smile at the new nose, but was proud nonetheless. It was the perfect blend of aristocracy and beauty that she needed. Glancing at her watch, she turned the shower on to wash the dye out of her hair. She took off her clothes, and put them on the table in the center of the cabin. She wouldn't need them after she finished tonight.

The warmth of the shower seemed to wash away her worries with the dark brown dye in her hair. She sighed, and ran her fingers through her hair, glad for the moment of respite and reflection. She allowed herself a few minutes before she turned the water off, and stepped out, drying herself off with the towel she brought.

She grabbed her wand, and again opened the books. She took her time, changing her waist, chin and hips. As she changed everything about her body, she mourned the loss of her former self, completely erasing any semblance of her former life. She carved out curves from her frame, and tried to forget what she used to look like.

She wrapped the towel around her, and walked to the small table in the middle of the cabin. She picked up the black robes piled on top, and pulled them on. They were a little tighter than she was used to, but she knew they would be when she bought them. She tucked the small wand she had purchased in Knockturn Alley into the holster on her right forearm, and put the small beaded bag full of her belongings around her neck.

She turned to the long mirror by the door and grimaced. Nothing in this outfit screamed her, but that was the point wasn't it? To be someone new, to become one of them.

She stopped her train of thought before it could talk her out of her mission, and shuddered as she felt her mental shields lock into place. She hoped the few years of Occlumency training she had would be enough to allow her to fool the Dark Lord. But if Severus could do it at 18 with little training, she reasoned, she should be able to do it now at 20 with training from multiple experts.

She picked up the small gas can and began shaking it around the cabin, making sure the bathroom was coated with the foul liquid before walking back to the center of the main room. She pulled her old wand out and set it down on the table next to her old clothes. She added the books on muggle plastic surgery, and dumped the last bit of gasoline on top. She stepped back and raised her new wand.

"Incendio" she whispered, and watched as the flames licked at the gasoline, and began to spread throughout the cabin. Holding her breath, Hermione stepped forward with determination, and felt the familiar squeeze of apparition pull her away from the heat.


End file.
